


Reuben Patterson and the Casino Murder

by 5H1TAKE



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Crime, Crime Fiction, Detective, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 16:37:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10723140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5H1TAKE/pseuds/5H1TAKE
Summary: This was my Creative Writing task for English this term. It is a bit rushed because I had a limit of 1000 words (+10% flexibility which I still went over ffs).Title: Reuben Patterson and the Casino MurderGenre: Crime FictionThis is an original work.





	Reuben Patterson and the Casino Murder

There are a number of things you would expect to find in a dumpster. Rubbish, a foul smell, a colossal mess in some cases or perhaps a surprisingly neat mess in others. Not many would expect to find the corpse of a multimillionaire, shoved into a dumpster. A cigarette hung loosely from his lips, creating a twisted, macabre portrait of a man who had it all. 

Heels clicked metronomically against the wooden floor leading to the Patterson Bureau. A silver plate bearing the name Reuben Patterson shone slightly in the sunlight filtering through a nearby window. The woman collected a group of manila folders into one arm and opened the door. 

“You must be Mrs Ascott, I’m sorry for your loss, welcome to the Patterson Bureau.” A woman in her 20s greeted her upon her entry. The bureau was a simple one, with a screen set up to corner off a portion of the room for speaking with clients. Straight ahead was a single desk covered in papers, behind it was a young man.

“Hello, Mrs Ascott, the files?” He began moving papers into seemingly random piles, clearing the cluttered desk. Mrs Ascott handed the manila folders to Reuben. He flipped through, skimming over the information. 

“Victim: Alain Ascott aged 42. Well known as the director of a renowned car company. Killed by a bullet to the back of the head and was found by a janitor in the dumpster of a casino he frequented. The suspect in custody is Randall Stahnford; the murder weapon was found in his bag as he left the casino, noticeably drunk. Motive: loss of income. However, you state here, that when they searched Mr Stahnford they found the gun with two empty chambers, but no form of money was found on him, nor had any money been deposited into his accounts after the murder. They also couldn’t find a second bullet.” Reuben summarised the information as he read then turned to Mrs Ascott. “That is fishy. Alright, I’ll take the case.” He returned the folders. “Avery, fetch the payment forms for me, won’t you?” The young woman who had greeted her handed Reuben some papers.

“Obviously my services aren’t free, I am still trying to make my way in life after all. However, this case has intrigued me. So a small discount, for you.” Reuben handed the forms to Mrs Ascott, a glint in his eye. 

The duo headed straight to the dumpster behind the casino, but all traces of the body had been removed and the site cleared appropriately. Avery had then suggested they pay a visit to the management office in the casino. They were then directed to Edgar Love, the croupier who had been at the roulette table where Mr Stahnford and Mr Ascott had played together last. 

“Mr Stahnford wasn’t having the best night at the casino, he couldn’t land a single winning bet at the table. Mr Ascott on the other hand. He definitely won most of the bets placed. I heard he’s always been lucky.” Edgar scratched his head thoughtfully. He was a youngish man, especially for his line of work, and wore his uniform impeccably. The duo had been told by the manager he was given the job because he had no remaining kin after his father, an acquaintance of Mr Ascott, had been killed, suspected foul play. “Always been lucky, has he? May we take a look at the roulette table used that night?” Avery was still taking notes on Edgar’s previous statement as she asked the question. “May I inquire as to why?” Avery’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly at that. “We could really use any leads we can find, Mr Love.” Reuben shot a look of warning to Avery. “Of course, right this way. And just Edgar is fine, Mr Patterson.” Reuben nearly missed the small hitch in his reply.

Edgar led them to one of the many roulette tables in the main hall of the casino. Reuben immediately stuck his head under the table. Edgar looked at Avery with a bewildered look but she merely shrugged back.

“Interesting,” Reuben started, “the usual rigging mechanism found in casinos is present but this,” he tapped something metallic and hollow, “is an additional mechanism. One that requires a remote.” He slipped out from under the table and moved under another. Humming thoughtfully he slipped out again. “The mechanism is missing in this one. “ Reuben brushed himself off as he stood up. 

“Well, that’s that. Thanks for your cooperation, Edgar.” He walked over and patted Edgar on the chest, over his breast pocket, before heading back towards the management office, whispering to Avery. “Run back to the bureau and grab the file named P. Love, I’ll do the rest.” “What? Why?” Avery sported a confused expression. “I’m 99.5% sure I’ve solved this. I just need that file.” Avery nodded at the urgency in Reuben’s voice and sped out of the casino.

An hour later a number of people were gathered in the foyer of the casino. Those present included Reuben and Avery, Mrs Ascott, the manager of the casino, Edgar and the police task force and Mr Stahnford. 

“Why am I back here, I don’t know anything!” Mr Stahnford grumbled. “You’re correct in saying that you don’t know anything, Mr Stahnford. You were dead drunk. Regardless of that fact, however, you still did not commit this crime. You were framed.” Reuben made his way to the middle of the foyer, the file tucked securely under his arm. He took his time, acknowledging each person present, stopping at Edgar. 

“You look much like your father, Edgar.” Edgar tensed up ever so slightly. “Thank you, Mr Patterson. But may I inquire as to why you’re bringing my father into this?” Reuben smirked. “Your father was an acquaintance of Mr Ascott, wasn’t he? You knew the truth about your father’s death; however, his murderer’s wealth was more than enough for the police to sweep that case under the carpet. You, Edgar Love, are the true killer. And you framed Mr Stahnford, using the remote to rig the roulette game and shoving the gun you used into his bag upon seeing how intoxicated he was.” Edgar’s head was lowered and his hands clenched into tight fists. 

“Edgar Love? As in Phillip Love?” Mrs Ascott stepped back in horror, recognition on her face. “Your husband killed my father!” Edgar snapped; his words lined with venom as frustrated tears filled his eyes. Police moved to surround him. 

“If you check his left breast pocket you should find the missing bullet. A remote should also be present.” Reuben escorted a near-hysterical Mrs Ascott to a nearby seat. The police seized Edgar, who simply stared at the ground, emotions overloading his senses. 

In his pocket was the missing bullet, the remote, and a picture of his father, stained with the blood of Alain Ascott.


End file.
